I jumped into a writing career right out of college because I was jazzed about the potential for self-expression, and because I was getting hooked on the rush of seeing my work appear in print.
From the first cartoon I had published (in Cricket magazine, when I was 10 years old – I wrote about that formative experience here), to youthful letters to the editor of my local paper, to articles I wrote for the high school newspaper and, later, college publications: All of these instances of publication were moments of validation for little Dylan. Someone had seen what I’d written, and they’d judged it good enough.
Then, thanks to the miracle of mechanical reproduction (and, later, digital reproduction), there were suddenly hundreds, thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands of copies of my words out in the world. Fame! Glory! The demon of external validation!
The thrill of publication gave me enough of a charge to get me through my first decade as a journalist, working in various prosaic, non-feature departments of several different monthly and weekly computer magazines. The work I did was far less expressive of my inner self than, say, the poetry that had appeared in my college literary magazine. But I still got to show off bits of my personality, injecting literary references into capsule reviews of personal databases or little jokes into lists of the top 10 downloadable PC utilities. Besides, seeing my name in print every month continued to serve as personal validation. “We’re not in it for the money,” one of my early editors said, helping ensure that my name was listed on the masthead. “If there’s no glory, why are we even here?”
Like most professional writers and nearly every journalist, though, my day-to-day life as a writer has involved many elements that have little to do with self-expression. Most of us who write for a living wind up writing alongside others. The work we produce is not the product of our mind alone; it’s a collaborative writing effort involving multiple writers, editors, and other stakeholders.
Collaborative writing comes with its own host of challenges and rewards. In my survey of content professionals earlier this year, I asked people about the challenges and rewards of collaborative content creation. Their responses clustered around a few recurring challenges:
- difficulties managing clients
- dealing with multiple rounds of review and revision
- sticking to the message (and having a clear enough message in the first place)
- working effectively with your colleagues
- deadline pressures
- getting subject matter experts to cooperate
The last two are not unique to team-based writing: Deadlines and sourcing are familiar challenges for any writer.
But the first four can be summarized the same way Sartre described hell: “Other people.” That’s too cynical, though there is some truth to it. Learning to write collaboratively means, by definition, that you’ll have to subordinate your ego to the group’s needs, and to let your self-expression take a back seat to the corporate, collective expression.
For me, the key was learning to cultivate a Zenlike equanimity about my work. Long before I took up the actual practice of Zen, I embraced this attitude of no-self in my work. I would put my heart into the work, doing the best possible job I could, without any expectation about the outcome. Then I would deliver it to my colleagues, to my editor, or to the client, and let it go. It was no longer mine; it was now out among other people, and I had to trust that they would do their best, too.
The Zen of doing the best possible work I can and then letting it go has helped me immensely in my career. It’s often the first piece of advice I give to writers struggling to work with other people.
In my survey, I also asked these seasoned content pros for the advice they’d like to pass along to other writers. Below, I'm sharing some of their gems of wisdom.
Ask for help
“Ask for help from your writing colleagues,” said one respondent, a former editorial lead for a PR agency. They pointed out that writing is typically a solitary activity, and it tends to attract people who don’t like to ask for help, either because they’re self-reliant or don’t want to bother others. If you’re working with a team, you need to get over that reluctance.
“When you have a great team around you, invite those brains into the conversation,” this respondent added. And they recommended being as specific as possible about what you’re asking for. In other words, don’t just ask for feedback. Ask: "How does this paragraph read to you, and what might you change to make it make more sense?"
Another respondent, a content director at a midsize company, echoed the need to be specific in your requests for help. “Be clear on what you're asking for to get good comments (e.g. technical accuracy, attributed quotations, when comments are needed, purpose of content).”
That said, even when you ask for it, criticism can hurt. Working on content collaboratively means learning ways to deal with critiques and move on from them. “Embrace well-meaning constructive criticism and grow a very thick skin for critiques that don't make sense or come from non-writers/creatives,” said one expert, a copywriter manager at a very large North American enterprise.
Preparation is everything
Solo writers can start a piece with no idea where the journey will take them. (BTW, that link goes to an article about brilliant short-story writer George Saunders, and yes, he has a Substack.) But that's a luxury those of us writing as teams don’t have. For teams, planning makes an enormous difference to the smooth operation of a writing project.
“Have a plan! Content outlines and creative briefs are absolutely essential,” one respondent, the head of content at a midsize for-profit company, told me.
“It's important to control the process,” another expert said; this person is a longtime writer and content pro, now a VP of marketing. In the early stages of a project, you want to encourage more participants and lots of collaboration, which helps with ideation, outlining, review, and buy-in on the direction and goals of the project. “Later, when buy-in and alignment have happened, you need to send some of the cooks out of the kitchen.” And, they added, you need to do this “tactfully, without squelching opinion or ownership. It's an art and science.”
Finally, preparation also includes taking the time to ensure that what you’re sharing with the team is as good as it can be.
“Take time to self edit,” said one respondent, an editorial director for a PR agency. “Take a break and read the copy with fresh eyes, or read it aloud,” they offered.
And show curiosity and engagement with your editor. This respondent also encouraged writers to “ask questions about the edits, especially if I'm making the same edits over and over.” If you don’t understand why an editor made a particular change, ask them: That’s how you learn.
What’s your advice?
Are you a content professional? What advice do you find yourself giving to colleagues? I’ll start interviewing writers, storytellers, and content pros about their work in the coming weeks. If you’ve got advice, share it in the comments here — or email me. I’d love to feature your POV in a future issue of this newsletter!
Recommendation
My friend Chrissy Farr writes Second Opinion, a deeply informed newsletter about the health-tech industry. Chrissy's unfiltered opinions are based on more than a decade of work in the field as a journalist (CNBC, Fast Company, and Reuters) and investor (Omers Ventures). Highly recommended! Subscribe here.
Chrissy has also written a book about the power of storytelling. Over the past few months, I've been helping her edit the manuscript. I can say firsthand that it's packed with powerful insights, great anecdotes from her reporting, and top-notch advice from some of the best storytellers in the business world today.
It's coming out in 2025 from Hachette, and I can't wait.
